


The New Flatmate

by DearlyStar



Series: Moments to Nowhere [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gift Giving, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4384637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearlyStar/pseuds/DearlyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I let out a chuckle in spite of myself, and they follow suit. It seems to give all of them a bit of a charge. They all sit up a bit straighter, now that I’m acting more receptive to their cunning scheme, and all smiles get a bit wider. A mischievous air has somehow descended on the room like a sudden, pleasant frost. Somehow, these young men never fail to make me laugh, even if I want to strangle them sometimes." Lily receives an unexpected (and adorable) new flatmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Flatmate

August has never been my favorite time of year. It was always so hard to wait for the month to be over, for September 1st to come, so I could shed the muggle world and go back to Hogwarts. But this August is different. I’m no longer in school. Graduated, top of my class, with excellent scores on the NEWTs, ready to take on the world in all it’s complicated, messy vastness. There are dangers, greater dangers than I ever anticipated. Coming of age in a time of war is never easy, magic or no, but it was something I never thought I would experience, let alone experience without the aid of my family.

But right now, all of that is on the outside of my door. My new door, labeled apartment 307 in worn brass numbers. It’s not much, but it feels like freedom to me. I open the shades to let in some light into my sitting room. There are still boxes everywhere. James made fun of me when I said I was going to pack the muggle way, but I’d never moved before. Statute of Secrecy aside, it felt wrong somehow, to pack with magic. 

It’s been two days since I last saw James. He was so upset, when I said I wouldn’t move in with him after we graduated. But we’d only been dating for several months. I love him, I’m sure of that now, but I want to experience life by my own hand. He never stops worrying. We fought about it. He’s acted sullen ever since, even when he helped me move boxes into this place, and when he and Remus set up protective enchantments over the whole building.

I pull a box over, and start unpacking cushions for the sofa. I toss them out, and pull a quilt from the box, draping it over the arm after shaking the dust from it. With a satisfied sigh, I look around the room.

It might be full of boxes right now, stacked haphazardly like so many stones in a wall, but I see it being a cozy little nest when I’m done. It’s hardly large, a single bedroom flat with the tiniest kitchen I’ve ever seen. It’s certainly not new, either. The building is old, and the walls are a little shabby. Paint is peeling around the peephole on the backside of the front door, and the faucet is dripping in the kitchen sink, beating a tiny tattoo to accompany my unpacking. It might be run down, but this space is completely my own. I’ve wanted this since I was thirteen, to be independent and living in London. The smells and the sights and the sounds of the city were always such an amazing thing to me. Living in Cokeworth, a small, run-down, industrial town, London was my internal mecca. Even now, looking around my tiny, admittedly dingy flat, I can see the potential. 

While I might have packed in the muggle way, I don’t think I need to unpack entirely that way. I head into my bedroom, where my bare mattress is sitting in it’s frame. I smile. I love opportunities to try new magic, and it’s time to put some of the domestic spells I learned from Dorcas over Christmas to use. I pull out my wand and give it a wave. Boxes pop open, and the sheets flutter out of them like they’ve been blown off a clothesline. Another flick, and they fit themselves snugly to my bed. I nod in satisfaction. At least I’ll be sleeping in my own bed tonight!

Last night was rough. I got in so late from work that I slept on the couch. It was hard to sleep, being alone in a strange place. Different noises turn terrifying after dark, and I’m not used to people passing my front door in the hall yet. I woke up three times to footsteps, and every time my wand was out and ready before I realized I was safe, and that there was nobody breaking and entering. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. At times, it scares me, when I think about just how vulnerable I am here. But I’m going to do this. War be damned, I will live independently at least once in my life. I want to feel like I’m completely in control of my own life, instead of allowing circumstances that might happen to dictate to me how I should feel, or think, or act. Not forever, maybe. But at least for now.

Tea. I need tea if I’m going to stay awake to unpack some necessaries. It’s already getting late; I can see the last shades of dusk deepening into night outside my bedroom window. Luckily, I have tomorrow off. I make my way into the kitchen area. There’s barely enough space to turn in. I grab my pretty enameled kettle from a nearby open box and stick it under the tap in the sink. The dripping turns into a steady stream. Absentmindedly, I light the pilot in the burner with a flick of my wand, placing the kettle down on it. 

I begin picking out cabinets to store my small assortment of dishes. I don’t know how much cooking I’ll be doing in here, but I will definitely need my mugs out in a few minutes, once that water boils. A few more spells, and a few more boxes get unpacked, and marked off the list just as the kettle starts to whistle. I pull down a mug and a teabag, and some sugar, thanking the brilliant idea to go fetch some essentials from the grocery store the day I moved in. I lean against the cabinets with my mug of tea in hand, inhaling it's comforting scent, when there is a rap at my front door. 

I whirl around, forgetting my mug and sending it shattering to the ground at the edge where the rug meets the linoleum. The sound rings in my ears as I aim my wand at the door. I was not expecting visitors tonight.

“Oi, Lils, it’s us! Open up!”

I relax somewhat. I know that voice. I pad to the door in my slippers and look through the peephole. 

There they all are. Sirius in the front, grinning his wolfish grin, Remus, looking tired and shabby, on his left, Peter bouncing up and down behind them, and James, hanging in the back, looking a little uncertain. 

“What was the first name I called you in your first year?” I query through the door. I need to be sure.

“I believe you called me a puffed-up, fat-faced prat,” his voice pipes through the wooden barrier. “I will admit I was a bit baby-faced.” He sounds very pleased with himself. I am immediately suspicious, but it’s definitely him. I unlock and unchain the door, and nullify the caterwauling charm. 

I open the door, and can’t help but smile.

“To what,” I ask, eyebrows raised, “do I owe this unexpected, reasonably late pleasure?”

Sirius flashes his most charming grin. “We were just in the neighborhood.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. He looks exhausted, but pleased to see me as he shoves Sirius out of the way and pulls a bouquet of flowers from out of nowhere. “Thought your new place could use a little warming,” he says with a friendly squeeze as he steps over the threshold. I can feel how thin he is through his coat. Must have been full-moon not long ago. I take the flowers with genuine surprise, feeling my smile widen. Remus always was the thoughtful one. Sirius strides across the threshold, giving Remus a mock-offended look and me a side-armed hug. I move to a box to pull out a large glass and fill it with water as Peter trots inside with a cheerful hello.

James is the last to enter, rather gingerly, looking carefully at his feet. And he's holding a box. With holes in it.

He looks up with me, and gives a furtive smile. "Hey," he breathes. His voice is rather low and gravely, and unsure. "Hey, "I reply in the same, quiet tone. I'm unsure of where we stand, except that I know I want to hug him and kiss him and smack him upside the head with a light book all at once. I make my mind up. I don't know if I will be able to stand it if I don't feel the comforting warmth of him after the anxiety of the previous night. 

I side-step around a box, and slide my arms around his waist. He tenses for a fraction of a second before putting his free arm around my shoulders. "I missed you," he says. Gods, I missed him too. I want to stay right where I am, inhaling his scent all night. But...

"Not even a day, and already living in filth," Sirius chides, gesturing at the shattered mug and the puddle of tea now seeping into the hallway rug. I send him a patronizing look, before flicking my wand. The mug shards reorganize themselves into a whole, and the tea vanishes from the rug. 

"Well, since I need a new mug now, anyone else want some?"

A few minutes, five mugs and milk and sugar later, we're all seated in my cramped sitting room, Remus and I on the couch, Sirius and Peter on the floor, and James sunk into a desk chair I brought out of my bedroom. Chatting over tea, laughing, teasing... it's lovely to see them all. I never realized how much I missed them until now. Funny how things change.

"How's work, Lily?" queries Remus, lifting his mug to his lips in a genteel manner. "I hear there was a rather nasty case of dragon pox going around just now."

"Yes," I reply. "Three kids just this week. Luckily, we caught them quickly, only one had progressed to the color-changing stage." I look at Remus, wondering momentarily what had him so peaked-looking, before I remember with a jolt that full moon was only two days ago. "Are you sure you feel alright to be out, Remus?" 

He smiles, a genuine, warm expression that lends his face some temporary health. "I'm certainly not my best, but I couldn't miss this!"

"I'm assuming 'this' is the thing in the box that James brought in?"

All four of them look guilty, but well-pleased. James hands over the box to Sirius, who hands it across the milk crate functioning as a temporary coffee table to Remus.

"Now before you get this present," Sirius says, grinning, "we have to tell you the story." 

Oh lord. What have I gotten myself into? I throw Sirius a look. He grins back. “You see,” he starts, leaning back on his elbows and stretching out across the floor, “James here-”

James shifts uncomfortably as my gaze lands on him, half curious and half admonishing. But to his credit he grins as Sirius goes on.

“James here thought that you would get lonely living here on your own.” I start to protest, but Sirius heads me off before I can build up a head of steam and vent my indignation at being treated like some wilting flower. “He also wanted to make up for the little tiff you two had the other night, but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. So I came up with a BRILLIANT plan.” Remus rolls his eyes to the heavens, and James lets out a groan. Peter giggles maniacally. 

“We were going to get you a puppy!” Peter pipes in. 

Sirius throws him a glare before continuing. “We were. But not just any puppy!”

“A dog. We were going to get you a large, intimidating-looking dog,” James says. “You know, for companionship. And security.”

“I was against the whole thing at the start,” Remus adds, looking put-upon and exasperated. “There is no WAY you could have a, a… wolfhound or something in a one-bedroom flat! It would take up half the space in here!”

“And after a while, we all kind of agreed that Remus was right-” Sirius continues.

“Per usual!” Remus chimes in. I let out a chuckle in spite of myself, and they follow suit. It seems to give all of them a bit of a charge. They all sit up a bit straighter, now that I’m acting more receptive to their cunning scheme, and all smiles get a bit wider. A mischievous air has somehow descended on the room like a sudden, pleasant frost. Somehow, these young men never fail to make me laugh, even if I want to strangle them sometimes.

“Anyway, we decided, upon further reflection, that you needed a smaller dog. But one just as fierce!” Sirius starts again.

“Except we didn’t want to get you a crup, because they are suspicious of muggles,” James says, sounding put out. 

“And we knew you didn’t like tiny yappy dogs,” pipes in Peter. “Or, well,” he amends, as James shoots him a look, “James did. So we went to the pound-”

“You lot went to the pound?” I ask, my eyes widening. Oh no. “The muggle pound?”

“Yeah,” says James, running a hand through his hair ruefully. He seems much more relaxed now. “Remus was the most knowledgeable about the place, so he took us in.” Remus takes a dignified sip of his tea, hiding the smile on his lips around the rim of his mug.

“It was so weird,” Sirius asserts, looking completely bemused over the whole concept of the pound. “Dogs and cats in cages, instead of being out and about for people to interact with. Nothing like the Magical Menagerie…”

“Yes, well most animals in there are at least partly magical,” Remus points out, looking at Sirius over the rim of his mug.

“It’s still weird,” Sirius maintains. “So we were looking for a dog.”

“Not just any dog,” James says.

“The perfect dog,” Sirius responds, in perfect cadence.

“Not too big, not too small,” Remus sighs, as though he has been forced to repeat this line several times before.

“With a good temperament, but a little guarding instinct,” Peter chirps, looking at Sirius.

“And black. It had to be black.”

“Padfoot, that was only you. It didn’t HAVE to be black,” James accuses. 

“Of course it did. Black is intimidating and mysterious. Like moi,” Sirius intones, affecting a conceited air. Maybe less “affecting” and more embodying. 

“Anyway, long story short, we couldn’t agree on the perfect dog,” James sighs. He takes a swig of tea, smiling at me. “We were all feeling pretty bummed about it, actually. We all got pretty invested in this little project.”

I feel warm all over, my heart swelling with affection for them all. They went to all this trouble, just to find me a companion animal. They braved the muggle world, and apparently spent some time planning and searching for the perfect pet for me. I remember, In January of last year, on our second date, I told James that I’d never really had my own pet. I’ve always liked animals, but we didn’t have the money to get me an owl for school, so I always used school owls to send letters home. Mother did always love owl post. It annoyed Petunia to no end. But James must’ve remembered. I beam at him, stand up and lean over the table to kiss him.

“What was that for?” he asks, looking quite pleased as Sirius makes a face of mock disgust on our right.

“My present. But finish the story posthaste, please, because I want to open it!”

“Alright, so,” Sirius continues, bringing his face back to a more normal expression, “come forward to two days ago. Full moon that night. We all had the chance to be there for Moony, so we all went out, transformed, like we do.” He casts the phrase away, as though it isn’t even worth considering that all three of them became animagi just for Remus, however illegally. I rather admire them for it, even Peter, who I know had to have help. 

“So we were out, running the North York moors, since the place is such a deserted area. I mean normally we prefer forests, but so do other, less savory people these days,” adds James, giving Remus an apologetic look, as though somehow he was responsible for the influx of disreputable people into their normal haunting grounds, “Anyway, we were out there for hours. And we have to keep Moony out in the middle of this place. We’re running a race, which I’m winning, no matter WHAT Padfoot says,” he grins over at Sirius, who pulls a skeptical face, but doesn’t interfere, “When suddenly-”

We all start as a tiny, squalling mew issues from the box. I inhale excitedly, and pull the box from Remus before he knows what is happening. Within a wand wave, the box is open, and out plops a miniscule, ragged-looking kitten, right into my lap.

I can’t help it. I let out a squeal of delight, picking up the tiny creature and cooing at it- her, rather. 

“Oh my goodness, she is so tiny!” I sigh as I stare at the bedraggled little thing. She is black as pitch, with huge green eyes. Her fur is a little saw-grass looking, she’s skinny, and she has a little notch in her left ear, but she stares at me with intense curiosity, and lifting a paw to bat at my nose.

“How on earth-” I start, tucking the little cat against my chest petting her tiny head with two fingers. 

Remus cuts me off with a huge grin. As tired as he looks, he is looking very pleased with my reaction. “So we were running the moors, when we hear, well, what we all just heard,” he says, reaching over to give the kitten a scratch behind her ears. She purrs happily and closes her eyes, settling down into a little contented cat-loaf in my arms. “We all look down, and there’s this tiny kitten winding itself around my legs. And mind, I’m a wolf.”

“That little critter literally approached a werewolf, and decided it was worth being affectionate too,” Sirius says, grinning fondly at the kitten in my arms. “Clearly, this cat is a worthy guard animal. She wasn’t afraid of a one of us, even chased Wormy a bit, until he climbed up on Prongs to get away. She was just playing,” he says to Peter, who looks torn between annoyance and affection for the little beast. “Anyway, we cleaned her up and fed her, and here she is! Little fluffball of joy to grace your new digs!”

They are all beaming at me, and I can tell I’m beaming back. My eyes find James’s.

“Do you like her?” he asks. “I mean, I wasn’t sure about a cat, but Remus insisted it was far more practical…”

“Well Remus got it right. I love cats,” I say. If I smile any harder, my face will cramp. I look down at her. 

“I’ve been calling her Minnie. You know, because of Minerva,” Sirius says, grinning. Peter kicks out at him, and Remus scowls as Sirius laughs and dodges the blow. 

“That’s Professor McGonagall, to you, you ponce,” James says through his grin. 

“Listen, that cat is just as brave as that woman. I swear in a past life McGonagall was a Scottish rebel or something. Although I will say, I like this cat’s taste in fur coats better,” Sirius grins, holding a querying hand out for the kitten. Loath though I am to give up the tiny purring fluff, I hand her over. She is mine now, after all. Plenty of cuddle time later.

“Well then, you lot, this calls for a celebration!” Sirius says, holding her aloft with one hand, and pulling out his wand with the other. One flick, and a bottle of champagne and five flutes appear. “From my Walburga’s stash,” he says. “But don’t tell her I know where she keeps the stuff. She might keel over dead if she caught me stealing it.”

The champagne is wonderful. Minnie (I decided to keep the name) is passed about, admired, and generally cooed over. I give her a bit of tuna from a can in the kitchen. I’ll need to get cat food tomorrow. But tonight, tonight I have four wonderful friends, and an amazing boyfriend, keeping me company. I have fun, and friends, and I have a new being to share my life and space with.

After all, it’s not every day that you get such a cute flatmate. Maybe, for Christmas, I’ll get another one. But this time, I think I want a boy. Maybe a dark-haired boy, with glasses.

I think the one sitting across from me will do.

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece popped into my head after listening to my audiobook copy of Deathly Hallows. In Lily's letter to Sirius, she says they have a cat. So how did James and Lily acquire their family pet? This story was my answer. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
